Domenico’s flesh stung where he’d been manhandled, and his Beretta was temporarily with Ryder, but at least he managed to prevent the bikers from cuffing him. That would have been too risky, but fighting six armed brutes in a van? Even he could not come out of that alive. Back at the clubhouse, at least Dom had the space to think, even with the bikers all tense and ready to take him down. He exhaled, trying to keep his breath level and his senses alert to any violence as Ripper paced in front of him like a bloodthirsty lion. “Who are you, huh? You offed the guy just when he was about to say your name. How do you explain that?”

Domenico shrugged. “My name’s not your concern. I don’t want it on tape.”